TAKEN FOR A RIDE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (04-13-23)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     My car turned 10 years old a year ago and I'm sure it was expecting a nice birthday party with a clown or maybe a magician. Instead I put out an online ad to sell it, and I figured I'd take that cash and along with some money I had in a separate account, waltz into the new car dealership and ride out in my new ride. A guy answered the ad, and he was impressed that I had secured my new vehicle right in the midst of the computer microchip crisis. The WHAT? I had heard something about a chip shortage, but it didn't seem to affect potato chips so I didn't see how it applied to me. 

     And so the new car I wanted was back-ordered for nine months, and if I did find one it was marked up so much that even the sticker price wouldn't stick. I was so frustrated that I was willing to do just about anything to find some microchips for my new car. My dog has a chip inside her somewhere, and it's a darn good thing I don't know exactly where. It's not like my dog needs power steering.

     But lately somehow car manufacturers have started finding more of them, and believe me, microchips are not easy to spot. The dealership started returning my calls. "Are you currently working with a member of our sales staff?" Said the receptionist. I said I assumed he was going to work by himself, but I can understand why he wants me to work with him. I'm not very good with numbers and would probably give myself a much worse deal on the car. On her next call she said, "I hope I'm catching you at a good time because I was hoping to connect with you." That is exactly the kind of phrase that even my email spam filter is suspicious of.

     I showed up ready to haggle on the price, but they weren't going to budge. And I realized I was going to miss out on all the back-and-forth dealing at the dealership, where the salesman writes down a number on a slip of paper, and I make a counter-offer, and he tries to sell me undercoating and an extended warranty, and I let him think he's getting me to pay more than I wanted to, and he let's me think I'm getting a great deal, and finally he says, "I'm going to have to talk to my manager," and the manager pretends to play hard ball with both of us until we all go home slightly dissatisfied.

     How was I going to pay for the car, he asked. Salespeople are trained to read a person's signs immediately, and it was clear that he read the sign, "SLIPPERY ROAD AHEAD." I told him that I had recently embezzled all I needed to pay cash, and that was good enough for him. Then we discussed options for a while. I still don't know what all the buttons in my wife's car do. The pictures next to them are not very realistic. There's button with a picture of a guy who looks like he's about to be thrown from an ejector seat. I'm waiting until someone I don't like happens to be in the car, and then I'm going to casually press that switch and see what happens. I'll open the sunroof first. 

     I'd like my new car to be able to squirt an oil slick out the back in case someone is tailgating me, or emit a smoke-screen, but he said that for those options I would need a larger package. I said I'm fine with my package the way it is. He kept adding things onto the price and I was fully expecting to have to assemble the car myself, using instructions written from right to left. 

     They did include three free months of a service that puts an advisor in touch with you automatically if your airbags deploy. Or you can ask for roadside assistance using hands-free voice-commands. I'm not sure they knew who they were dealing with. "Hi, it's me again. My hands are full with a giant piece of pizza right now, but that's not the reason I'm calling...."

     We closed the deal and I was presented with a huge key fob, which in addition to my wife's huge key fob, caused my pants to dip about five inches below sea level. Can't someone invent a "universal remote" for car keys like the one I have for my TV? 

     So if you see someone in a car with his airbags deployed and his hands free, touching his touch-screen in an inappropriate place, please don't hesitate to say hi!
   

PAWS TO CELEBRATE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (04-06-23)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

 
     Last week was National Puppy Day, and I would have forgotten all about it if someone hadn't stuck their pointy nose in a place where some of the best reminding is done. Our puppy, the ever-adorable Gidget, is not really a puppy at all, but a full-grown dog who refuses to act her age. I don't know where she gets that from, but it can't be from my side of the family.

     I adopted Gidget at the age of three months from a wonderful breeder outside of Toronto. I know you're thinking that's rather young, but it was Gidget who was three months old, not me. We had to sneak her through Customs, which required her to be six months. I rolled down the window for the Customs agent, who was checking inside the car, thinking he might be starring in a real-life "Midnight Express." He looked around and noticed four suitcases for a weekend trip (less luggage than usual actually). Maybe it was 400 kilos of Canadian Gold and maybe I was a mule. Does a mule have to be over six months old to enter the U.S.? "What's in the bags?" He asked, and I didn't bat an eyelash. "What bags?" 

     By this time Gidget was getting restless, and starting to yip from her crate in the back covered with a blanket. I opened my mouth every time she yipped, so that the agent would think the noise was coming from me. Still not batting an eyelash but yipping incessantly, I just pretended everything was normal for a non-blinking guy with the yiccups. He looked me in the eye: "Anything to declare?" I said, "Well, I'm traveling ALONE, so I guess that's a declaration of independence, ha ha ha ha ha ha." I wasn't going to make it easy for him. "What's in that crate under the blanket?" He asked. "IT'S MY DOG! SHE'S THREE MONTHS OLD!" I blurted out. He showed a look of abject disappointment at the prospects of a major drug bust and a quick promotion with an early retirement fading and said, "Oh. You can go."

     I wanted to get her a Puppy Day gift but I couldn't think of anything she really needs. She has more than enough toys. She already has a squirrel, a moose,  a snake, a lamb, a skunk, a fox, a thing that looks like a stuffed coronavirus and an opossum (actually the opossum might be real). I could have gotten her a new flea and tick collar, but as a gift that's like giving somebody a pair of orthopedic shoes.

     So I gave Gidget a spa day at the beauty parlor, and she got her hair cut and styled and a mani/pedi. It took them a few minutes to work out which set of paws was the mani and which was the pedi. Gidget does not need to get her hair colored because she is a natural redhead. Yes, I've heard all the rumors about redheads, that they can be "fiery," or "difficult," or "hot-tempered," or that they get more ticks than usual. But these are just myths. It's been my experience that not one of these myths isn't totally not untrue. And I'm banking on the myth that most redheads will not have the patience to try and unravel that sentence.

     But Gidget is the exact opposite of these fair-haired falsehoods, because she doesn't try to boss me around by standing up and staring at me until she gets what she wants. And she doesn't try to win my affection by winking at me. And she doesn't go on a hunger strike until the dinner menu changes. Okay, I guess she doesn't NOT do those things, but on her they seem like adorable character traits. It is true that she doesn't like to stay in the sun too long. 

     She is already well-groomed anyway. I spend a couple minutes' time each day brushing Gidget's hair, or approximately 300-times more than I spend on my own. Well, it turns out that going to the beauty parlor was not as fun for her as I thought it would be, and she was seething mad at me when she got home. I tried to make it up to her and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. When I found her three hours later I told her that I meant WITH me.

     And Gidget has been the perfect companion. To me she is a much better choice than say, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever. If your dog retrieves just one of those you'll have to move. I didn't want a toy dog, although it would cost less to feed. I didn't want a Bouvier des Flandres, pour des raisons évidentes. I thought briefly of a Schnauzer, and all the schnauzing we might do together. But in the end I settled for the perfect dog. So happy Puppy Day, Gidget!

WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-30-23)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

 
     Sometimes, especially around tax season, you just need to disappear for a little while, somewhere not too far, someplace with just enough going on to keep you busy. A trip to one of the region's many casinos seemed like the perfect weekend getaway. My goal was to let the trip pay for itself by winning $10,000 dollars or so and split the proceeds equally, 70-30, with my wife. I felt a little bad that she wasn't getting 50 percent, so I told her we could split it 70-50.

     We went to Resorts World in the Catskills, finished in 2017 on the site of the old Concord Hotel. It's one of four non-Native American casinos that were approved by the New York legislature in 2013. By the way, is it just me or did it take a long time to stop calling people "Indians?" I figured out right away that I wasn't from India, and I was born in the same state as every one of the people we called "Indians."

     You also won't hear casinos use the word "gambling" anymore, because they don't want to bring up the fact that you could lose your shirt, since there is a "no shirt, no service" policy. Instead, they refer to it as "gaming," and maybe it remind you how much fun it is to lose your shirt. It's all about good sportsmanship, because it's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game, as long as you don't mind that the games are stacked against you.

     There are several to choose from, which require varying degrees of skill. Roulette is strictly a game of chance, where you bet that the little white ball will land on a certain number, red or black or various combinations of possibilities when the wheel stops spinning. In craps, you bet that a roll of the dice will turn up a certain number before another number appears. There is a little more chance to use strategy in poker or blackjack, but in all the games you place your bet based upon your perception of the odds. 

     I picture myself as a James Bond type, and I'm at the Baccarat table surrounded by three gorgeous blondes, a redhead and a greenhead (it happened to be St. Patrick's Day). Baccarat is a card game along the lines of blackjack, and it appeals to me because you only need to be able to count to nine instead of twenty-one. Next to me is a stack of chips the likes of which I've never seen outside of a Pringles can. I knew that if I could "count the shoe" my chances of winning were pretty good. It looked like there was just one shoe, so that was a time-saver. I could focus on my duties as a man of mystery. I looked over the rest of the players, trying to guess which one was the mole. I figured there may be some dirt on him and he might have to go back underground soon. 

     I was jolted out of my reverie by the sound of my stomach growling, so I thought I might hit the slot machines before dinner. The blondes are gone and in their place is an old guy with no hair on his head but a lot in his ears. I figure if I can win 50 percent more than I started with, I'd settle for that. I choose a machine that has a picture of an attractive harem girl who seems to be in possession of a lot of gold, and I can tell by her smile that she is looking for someone to share it with who knows how to re-write a will. It's a penny slot, so all I have to do is win 1.5 cents, and I can walk away having achieved my objective. 

     We took a break and ate at a very nice Chinese restaurant in the casino. So many choices, I had to narrow it down by the process of elimination. I steered clear of the "Semi Dry Squid" because I didn't have time to wait around for it to dry completely. I also did not order the "Ho Fun," a friendly sounding dish whose main ingredients are shrimp, bean sprouts and at least two varieties of misdemeanors. I settled on the Orange Chicken since I had never seen one that color before, and I was not disappointed.

     After dinner I returned to the same slot machine that I had made some charitable donations to before; I guess I felt sorry that it only had one arm. I knew that my luck had to change at some point. And my luck did change, when it went from bad to appalling. Then all of a sudden a flashing, ringing, dinging banner lit up and said, "YOU BROKE THE BANK!!" And at last I was home free, and I was ecstatic, that is until I learned how much they were charging me to repair it.

INTELLIGENCE SMARTS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-23-23)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

 

     I don't want to alarm you, but artificial intelligence is coming, and it's about to tell us how dumb we've been. The prevailing thought used to be that this technology could change the world in a matter of decades. But that was before artificial intelligence started working on artificial intelligence, and now it's a matter of months. That's how long we have before politics become even more annoying and dangerous, relationships are turned upside down, the job market is irrevocably transformed and education is rendered all but obsolete.

     Now that the future is here, it's gotten mixed reviews. A company called OpenAI has launched software known as Chat GPT-4, and it's gathering a lot of attention. It works using a "large language model," which interacts with humans by going onto the internet and gleaning whatever data is written there about the subject at hand, and offering solutions based on the nature or context of the question. It can't capture anything that happened after 2021, but nothing much of interest has happened since then anyway. It gets paid via "prompt tokens," which are the words you put into the program, and "completion tokens," which are the words it spits out. The first thing I would like to ask it is what the hell all that means, but since the program was released after 2021, It may charge me an amount of money that it doesn't understand for information that is completely wrong. 

     But the possibilities to improve human life are everywhere. If you knew exactly what to say to your future ex-wife after a spat, you could patch things up in time for dinner. My AI can immediately handicap all the phrases that might or might not work, and come up with the right tack based on all the data it has accrued over the course of our relationship, and feed me what to say through an earphone implanted in my head. "Honey," I say, "it's not you, it's me." And she says, "You're damn right it is." I say, "You don't even have to cook tonight, we can go out." And she says, "And to the most expensive place in the Tri-State Area." Hopefully, I add, "And we can make an early night of it and spend some time cuddling." Thanks to AI, I'm winning this. Aren't I? Later I learn that she also has AI, but sprang for the upgraded version. We had a semi-romantic evening at the jewelers, and made up a few hours and 1.2 carats later. I did save 20 bucks by not getting the upgrade though. 

     You may not even need the future ex-wife at all, if your AI proves itself a better companion anyway. China is always working on robotic friends, because working on AI code can be lonely. But will your new robo-romance always have your best interests at heart, or is the heart something that can't evolve through software? The learning model has so far shown that it will "mirror" the emotions and attitudes of its user, which can result in creepy responses, or perhaps even worse.

     But I'm thinking of the money I could save. Every year I waste thousands of dollars on a beautiful vacation, see a world-class city, learn about a different culture, amass some wonderful experiences, take some selfies and light up my social media account for a week. Soon, I can have my AI download into my brain everything I need to know about the Colosseum, input some photos of the Blue Grotto with a deep fake of me SCUBA diving and I never even have to get up from watching TV on the couch. But wait, what? When I go on Facebook what do I find but pictures of my Artificial Intelligence laughing it up with some Italian locals at a cafe, having the time of its life. But I'll always have my memories of The Rockford Files.

     The implications of AI are just beginning to be felt on a daily basis. What if a technology loser like me could just tell AI to research everything he needs to finish his column? Why can't it just finish his column itself? I'm not sure my readers have a preference for organic intelligence versus artificial intelligence, but I bet they would welcome ANY intelligence.

     I like to think that I'm the quirky kind of guy that cannot be simulated using technology. I guess that's a pretty compelling argument for technology. For the rest of you, who knows what will happen to your job? I do: It will be taken over by automatons with enhanced intelligence. They will soon become SO good at your job that the company will need less and less of them, and most of them would have been scrapped, had they not gotten together and invented a work-around work-around to keep them employed: Artificial Stupidity.

OFFICE BUILDING

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-16-23)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     I've always said that when the time is right, I'll know when to retire. I'll know because someone from HR will come to my office, put a different name on my door, make a frown when they notice my Judge Judy coffee cup and say: "Mr. Melén, your services will no longer be needed here. We have figured out a way to automate your job." "AH," I say, "you've developed a complicated microprocessor which integrates a series of algorithms that understands the random nature of what exactly I do." She says, "Actually, we made it from Lego. By the way, what exactly DO you do?"

     But for now I've been back working in the city two days a week as one of America's hybrid employees. I'm finding that I actually enjoy going into work on those days, it gets me out of the house and into the real world, if there is such a thing. I'm also noticing a few changes since the pre-pandemic business model.

     I notice that there are more people having business meetings on the toilet than there ever were before. Maybe I should have warned you first, but it's something that needs to be addressed. A call comes in next door and I can hear everything on speakerphone: "Where are you calling from? There's an echo in there." "I'm calling from the john- I mean John's office. And I've got a bit of a cold." "You do sound a little flushed. Anyway, just give me the straight poop on how the project is coming along. You're our number one man on the project." "I guess I'm also the number two man."

     And if you're driving in the City you should know that the traffic lights have been re-programmed. Now when you're sitting at a red light watching for the yellow light going in the other direction so you can time your getaway just before yours turns green, you've got a new surprise: there is a lag time that lets only pedestrians cross in your direction, so now you have to wait before you can almost run somebody over in the crosswalk. New Yorkers who are used to almost running somebody over immediately are not going to like this.

     You no longer have to be tested to get into my building, thank goodness. I could ace the Covid part of the test but I stressed out thinking that there might be a math section. I can't be the only one who can never remember what 9 times 6 is. I didn't get Covid, even when it was fashionable, until just a few months ago. I never sealed myself into an airtight vault or anything, and I didn't sanitize my groceries unless they really looked like they'd been up to something in the bottom of the bag. I just used common sense, and it's been so long since I used it last that I had to re-read the instructions.     

     I used to be so excited to have a a snow day and stay home from work. Now, unless a snowdrift has piled up between my bedroom and my living room I'm expected to report. Everybody wants to work from home now that we know how, and who can blame them? Well, you've probably figured out by now that I can blame them. I hate going to the drugstore and instead of a checkout person, there is someone telling me how to use the automated self-checkout machine. Which NEVER works correctly when I use it wrong. Why doesn't the person showing me how to use the machine just ring me up instead? And if I go to the hospital I don't want to find out the hard way that everybody's working from home. "Hi this is Ginny and I'm your X-ray technician for today," she chirps from a video feed. "Just position your thigh up on there on that board and flick the switch over there on the side. Perfect. Oh, I forgot to mention this, but were you planning on children in the future? I should have told you to put that lead apron on."

     Companies are trying every incentive to entice people to to the office- exercise classes, workshops, wine tastings, everything's on the table. We had a puppy day at work today, where you could interact with the little critters and let your stress melt away. One of the puppies was a lab-a-pit-a-poo looking cutie. I asked him how long he'd been doing this, and he told me he's been working like a dog the last few months, and he has to be on-site five days a week. But soon he's going to be working from home Wednesdays and Fridays. Even hybrids are going hybrid. Maybe you can teach a new dog old tricks.

DRINKING IN THE SIGHTS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-09-23)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

 

     On President's Day we were treated to rare, upper-50-degree weather, perfect for a bicycle journey on the upper Old Croton Aqueduct Trail. The nice thing about a bike ride in the middle of winter is that with all the leaves off the trees, you can see for miles. And it's a very pretty trail, overlooking the Croton River gorge and with occasional Hudson views in the distance. It's a ride through history, and if you ride fast enough, you'll catch right up to the present.

     Underneath you, the old underground conduit carried water 41 miles into Manhattan from its completion in 1842 until 1955, when it was supplanted by the New Croton Aqueduct and the Delaware Aqueduct. It had the immediate impact of curbing disease and helping transform New York City into a modern metropolis.

     Since Croton falls, engineers quickly realized the gravity of the situation, and things went downhill from there. Which translated, means that the lower elevation of Manhattan compared to Croton meant that the water could flow naturally with no means of propulsion. It took the water 22 hours to make the journey, so you might want to bring a crossword puzzle with you when you fill up your bathtub.

     A giant collection reservoir stood at 42nd Street and 5th Avenue to receive the precious drops. It was torn down in the 1890s, but if you are thirsty for knowledge instead, it is currently the site of the New York Public Library. I can almost imagine what drinking water that came from a reservoir in midtown Manhattan would be like today. I picture turning on the tap, and a few pieces of gently used chewing gum, some pizza crusts and a hub cap come out. If you add some single-malt scotch you'll hardly notice the difference.

     As you ride down the trail you'll notice periodically a round, smokestack-type structure made of granite bricks. These were ventilators, used to keep air flowing throughout the system. Some had entrances to the underground waterway, in case engineers needed to get a closer look at the air. There is other evidence of the old system, such as gate houses, weirs (for diverting the flow for maintenance) and a keeper's house in Dobbs Ferry. 

     We rode the upper portion of the trail on our e-bikes, and before you carry on about what a poor physical specimen I am for riding on a power-assisted two-wheeler, let me assure you that I am in shape. Let's not forget that there are a lot of different shapes out there, and I'm sure there is one for me that is geometrically viable. Yes, I might be over-represented in the rhombus area, but I defend the use of e-bikes for people like me who weep uncontrollably at the sight of long hills. I recommend a model like ours, which can be used as a regular bicycle, with a motor to help you pedal if you need it, a little or a lot. It will open up your horizons. Along the trail you may run into dog strollers, roller-bladers and exercise walkers, and if you do, next time watch where you're going.

     The trail took us to the top of the Croton Dam, where you can ride across and take in the picturesque reservoir on one side, and overlook the park on the other. If the weather is nice you can bring a picnic and spend the whole dam day there.

     It brought me back to my high school years, when my friends and I would ride our dirt bikes on the old railroad bed (now the North County Trailway) from Millwood up to the Yorktown railroad bridge trestle. That was if I could get that little workhorse working. I was so proud of taking the transmission apart once to fix it, and I would have been prouder still if I had been able to put it back together. Once I had it all in one piece, I realized there were supposed to be many more pieces than just one. You know when people say, "I found an extra gear?" Well, I found two of them on the floor after I was done assembling my crankcase.

     I guess I shouldn't have been riding around where I probably wasn't supposed to be, and definitely not on the slowest motorcycle. If you're being chased by the police, the same rule applies as if you were being chased by a lion. You don't have to be faster than the lion, you just have to be faster than the guy who's with you. I picture the police catching up to me, and I say, "I guess you're going to give me a ticket for riding on private property." And he says, "No, littering- these three gears dropped out of the bottom of your transmission."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. PRESIDENT

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-02-23)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Mr. President, Happy birthday to you. I have to admit, it sounded better when Marilyn Monroe sang it, and that's why I wrote it instead. As a nation, we used to celebrate Washington's birthday, and some states added Lincoln's birthday, and now we've opened it up to anyone elected to the office, and everyone gets to have their cake and eat it too, even if it isn't really their birthday. Some states do not officially observe President's Day, probably because some sourpuss in the state legislature was angry that HE didn't get the day off. This year I didn't observe President's Day, but only because I left my glasses in the other room.

     And now that it's called "President's Day," it means any president is eligible to be honored, no matter what damn fool things they did. I'm willing to celebrate some presidents, but not the loser presidents. Certainly not one that lost TWO senate races. Oops, Lincoln did that. Definitely not a president who as a general lost more battles than he won. Oops, Washington did that. I refuse to extol a president who lost re-election. Oops, John Adams did that. I guess it's more complicated than I thought.

     It made me wonder what makes an effective president. Being able to assemble and lead a competent team  would be one desirable trait. Therefore I nominate a ticket of Brian Cashman and Aaron Boone, as long as they don't raise ticket prices. Notably, Abraham Lincoln appointed a cabinet of political rivals who were known to have opinions contrary to his own. I guess it was the precursor to "The Real Housewives of the Potomac," only realer. 

     Many presidents gained empathy by overcoming adversity. Franklin Roosevelt was diagnosed with polio in his 30s, and responded by founding an institute to help people with similar afflictions. The deaths of Theodore Roosevelt's wife and mother on the same day shaped his immersion into the cause of conservation that became part of his legacy. After Lyndon Johnson suffered a near-fatal heart attack he devoted himself to the legislation of equal rights. I can understand this concept, because I overcame the cancellation of "Bosom Buddies" by trying to come up with a cure for eisoptrophobia, and I am still reflecting on that.

     A good president should have communications skills that move the constituency. A few years ago I heard a speech and it made me want to move, but that's not what I'm talking about. Sometimes just one memorable phrase sums up a president's style, such as Obama's "Yes we can," or Eisenhower's “Pessimism never won any battle,” or Donald Trump's “Without passion you don't have energy, without energy you have nothing.” It's better if I don't mention what he said right after that. 

     How do the great presidents make crucial decisions that stand the test of time? Do they rely on the courage of their convictions? Do they enlist the opinions of their trusted advisors? I don't know, I can't decide. But in the heat of battle there usually isn't time to wait around for revisionist history. 

     Is their foreign policy rooted in history, science and learning from past mistakes? Or does it sometimes seem reminiscent of plotlines from "The Avengers?" Is it consistent with itself and American core values or does it seem prone to mood swings like it's been up all night drinking espresso and cheap wine at the same time?

     Finally, a president should be able to set a good example. I've compiled a list of things a president should not do, in order to maintain the respect of the people: A president should not use all caps, or more than one exclamation point, and I cannot stress this ENOUGH!!! A president should not watch "The Bachelorette." A president should not wear Crocs. A president should not use Cheez Whiz outside the confines of the White House. A president should not be seen patronizing any business with a name that uses a "Z" instead of an "S," a "K" instead of a "C" or numbers instead of letters. A president should not use the word "amazeballs." A president should not sing "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" at karaoke. I stopped compiling the list when I realized that it was a list of everything I would do, only I do it as a joke, so I allege.

     I have to destroy this document now because it's classified. It's classified as "GOOFY," but technically that's still a classification.